Rite of Passage

The Hagerman's plan to be swept up by a tornado around 10:30 tomorrow morning, lifted a hundred feet above ground, and plunged to our certain death ... voluntarily.

My children, just as their father and mother before them, will complete a children's rite of passage Thursday when we step out of the car in Altoona, and walk through the gates of Iowa's most recognizable man-made attraction -- Adventureland.

"Adventureland, where you can ride the tornado,
See a family show or hear a rock n' roll band."

That's how the commercial jingle went two decades ago when I visited the family-owned theme park for the first time. I don't remember my age -- perhaps 12. I do, however, remember my encounter with the Tornado.

The Tornado is the park's foremost roller coaster -- a wooden relic once listed as one of the 10 best in the country. With advances in technology and thrill-ology, the Tornado now would be described as "quaint." But, it was (and I suspect still is) as much as I could handle. Like many coasters, the ride begins as your car slowly climbs a steep hill. A slight pause at the top ... and whoosh ... down you go. A few twists, another climb and fall, and you stumble off the ride. Two minutes of sheer fun (or terror, depending on perspective).

Adventureland is not Walt Disney World, or even on par with other Midwest parks like Six Flags. But it is all-Iowa. It's a nice place to visit, an oasis of fun in a state sometimes criticized for not having enough to do. I expect that my children will repeatedly smash my front fender on the bumper cars, yearn to get soaked in the Raging River, and walk out of the Silly Silo feeling ... silly (aka dizzy and sick to your stomach). And when they do, they will experience what their dad experienced 25 years ago.

They can't wait, and truth be told, neither can I.